Unripe avocados sit upon my counter
until the day they all ripen, too quickly
for my heart to bear
and so, for many meals, I eat
the humblest, yet noblest of meals:
avocado toast.
First comes the toasting of the bread –
white, brown, with seeds or grains,
it makes no difference, for the toast
is merely the vehicle for the fruit.
O, noble avocado you were no friend in youth
Whether my mother spurned you in the grocery store
Or if you made no appearance there, I do not know.
I only know that I made your acquaintance
in university, dabbling and experimenting as
young dilettantes will, and yet
I knew not how to eat you
for my lack of youthful experience.
But lo, these many years later,
having eaten my weight in avocados
and found many ways to savor the
delightful and delicious green orb,
whose hue was sacrificed
on the altar of good taste in the 70s,
now, I serve you, lightly seasoned,
upon an altar of toast.
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